


Saving Tig

by JsPrincess



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Dawns death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions Past Abuse, Mentions past stillbirth, New Baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JsPrincess/pseuds/JsPrincess
Summary: Sara can't stop thinking of Tig after his daughter’s death. She decides to check on him, and ends up helping him heal, and saving him from himself. Tig also ends up helping her heal from her past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read this if stillbirth or late term miscarriage are a trigger for you.

I was out cold, peacefully sleeping in my nice warm bed, fan blowing, soft music playing, when my phone started to ring. When I woke enough to realize what was going on, I grabbed it. Skeeter. My new boss never called me at...3am, what the fuck?

“Skeet this better be real damn good. I’m not due in for another five and a half hours,” I grumbled into the phone. 

“We got a time sensitive issue, Sara. I need your hel on this one. Meet me at the office and I’ll explain. Get there asap,” he said quickly, and hung up.

I groaned and crawled out of bed. I knew it had to be the Sons of Anarchy. No one else got Skeeter out of bed at this time of night, ever. The rate they paid Skeeter to keep his mouth shut was a plus though. I’d finally be able to afford the new camera I’d been eyeing, once Skeeter handed over my cut. I’d only been in on two of these secret cremations before, but the payout had been excellent both times. 

I pulled into the parking lot about ten minutes later, still wearing the tank top that i’d been sleeping in, along with a wrinkled pair of skinny jeans and my steel toed boots. The Sons’ black van was already there, backed up to the doors, with the back doors wide open. When I neared the van, the acrid stench of burned flesh was strong. My eyes watered, and my stomach rolled, but I didn't let it show as I entered the building, not knowing who, or what, was inside. 

Jax, the Sons’ President, Chibs the VP, and Tig, their Sergeant at Arms, all of whom I’d met in passing, were gathered around what I assumed was a body, rolled up in a blanket. Skeeter was standing by the cremation oven, fiddling with the knobs and switching them on. I surveyed the three men, Jax and Chibs looked solemn, while Tig’s head was bowed, his dark curly hair shielding his face from view. 

Skeeter nodded to me, and I helped him slide the body into the oven, and close the heavy doors. Skeeter pulled a stool up for Tig to sit on, because he looked like he was about to fall down. That was the moment that I realized, Tig had a steady stream of tears running down his face. His face was drawn, the pain clearly evident. Skeeter stepped up beside me and whispered, “His daughter. Stay with him,” in my ear. I nodded and Skeet took Chibs and Jax into the main building to settle the bill. 

I laid a gentle hand on Tig’s shoulder and asked quietly, “Is there anything I can do, anything I can get you hon?” 

Tig shook his head, his eyes never leaving the oven doors. I pulled another stool up and sat beside him, unable to leave him alone, even if Skeeter hadn’t told me to stay with him. I was used to grief, i dealt with it on a daily basis, but the grief of a parent losing a child was the worst. It broke my heart every time, no matter how old the child was. It’s so wrong to have to bury your own baby. 

A few minutes later, Jax and Chibs came out of the office, They each patted Tig on the shoulder as they headed for the door. Chibs leaned and whispered in my ear, “Thank you lass.” I just nodded. No thanks were needed. Leaving Tig alone in his deep grief would have felt so wrong to me. Jax and Chibs took up guard on either side of the door, just outside, in case they were needed.

The curly haired man’s shoulders shook as we sat together, just looking at the big oven doors. I couldn't quite understand what he was going through, so I didn't bother with words. My own experiences were enough to tell me that words didn't matter right now. I just laid my hand on his back and rubbed what I hoped were soothing circles. Tig occasionally leaned in to my touch, so I continued to attempt to soothe him. 

The oven ran for another hour and a half before I peeked in the side window and saw that the blanket covered body was now reduced to mostly dust, and I began shutting the big machine down. I sat with Tig, who was still shaking, as the oven cooled down, bit just as I was about to pull the tray out of the oven, he stood suddenly. “I can't do this right now, I can't, ” he said as he ran out the door. I saw Jax and Chibs both go after him, but Tig just took off running down the sidewalk. 

Chibs came back inside and told me that someone would come back during business hours to pick up the ashes, and apologized for getting me out of bed in the middle of the night. I assured him that it was no big deal, and once he left, I finished the task of grinding the pieces of bone that hadn’t already been turned to ash, and bagging it all. I put Tig’s daughter’s remains in a black box and placed the box in a locking cabinet. Once the cremains were safely stored, I cleaned my work area and got ready to leave.

After locking the crematorium doors, and ensuring that all the parlor doors were locked as well, I headed home. Skeeter had apparently left when the Sons left. Typical Skeet. I was hoping to grab a quick nap, shower and get something to eat before my real day actually started. 

×÷×÷×÷×÷×÷×÷×

I got back to the funeral home at eight twenty-five that same morning. I was dressed in black pants and a pink blouse, and had my dressy sandals on. My boots were in the trunk of the car in case anything heavy had to be moved or I was going to assist Skeeter in a cremation or embalming. 

The morning was quiet. Skeeter picked up a body from Saint Thomas while I dusted the front offices and ordered some fresh floral arrangements for the lobby. Skeeter was in one of the offices with the family of the person he’d picked up that morning, when the bell above the door jingled. 

Tig walked through the door looking exhausted, but the tears had stopped, though his eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. I met him in the lobby and told him that I would go get the cremains for him. He stopped me before I headed to the back. “Thank you for this morning. It was hell. Thank you for staying with me,” he said, looking in my eyes.

“You’re welcome Tig. I couldn't have left you like that if I’d wanted to. It’s terrible to lose a child, no matter their age,” I told him, hoping he understood that no thanks were needed. 

I headed to the back and retrieved the box that contained the remains of Tig’s daughter. I carried her to the lobby and found Tig sitting in one of the arm chairs with his head in his hands. I placed my hand on his back and he looked up at me. “Here she is,” I said softly, handing him the black plastic box. 

“Thank you,” Tig said quietly, as he took the box jn his hands and just stared at it.

“I know it’s horrible, and people will tell you that time will make the pain go away. You’re going to curse them, because the pain doesn't go away, you just learn how to deal with it. You learn how to compartmentalize the pain so that it doesn't rule your life,” you told him. I normally didn't pour my heart out for clients, but Tig was so lost, I couldn't help it. 

I took one of my business cards out of a little tray in the windowsill and handed it to the broken man in front of me. “My cell number is on there, if you ever need to talk, call me. Anytime of day or night is fine,” I assured him. He nodded and stood to leave. 

I watched Tig as he carefully placed the black box into his saddlebag and mounted his bike. I did not look away until I could no longer see or hear his bike as it roared away. Today had affected me more than I had been affected by any other client during my career.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the week was quiet. Only a few of the elderly citizens of Charming had passed away this week, so it was calm at the funeral parlor. I deep cleaned the lobby while Skeeter worked on the bodies, and deep cleaned my office while Skeet had clients in his office. I assisted with the funerals and memorial services, but I still found Tig on my mind. I remembered my own deep depression, and worried about him.

After work, I found myself driving toward the Teller-Morrow garage on the opposite side of Charming from where I live. I found the lot easily, knowing that the Sons clubhouse was in the same lot as the shop.   
When I pulled in, there were several men wearing leather vests standing around a long line of motorcycles. I recognized several, but was relieved when i saw Chibs among them. I walked over toward the group, calling Chibs’ name as I went. He broke away from the group and walked over to me. “What can I do for you lass,” he asked.

I explained that I’d been worrying about Tig all week, and wanted to come check on him. Chibs raised an eyebrow, but showed me inside the clubhouse where Tig was slumped against the bar, a beer in his hand. “Tig,” I said as i stepped up to him. 

He lolled his head to the side and looked across at me. I was only 5’4” even with the heel on my sandals, so Tig was still taller than me, even seated on his barstool. “Hey doll,” he slurred. 

“Tiggy, you remember Sara from Skeeter’s. She was worried about you and came to see how you were,” Chibs said from beside me.

A look of recognition crossed Tig’s eyes and he said “Sara,” exuberantly. 

I sat on the barstool next to Tig and a man I didn't recognize handed me a beer from behind the bar, after he opened it in front of me. I sat beside Tig, watching him finish his beer and then order the man behind the bar to line up shots. “You want some,” Tig asked. I declined and I watched the already drunk man take six shots of whiskey like they were nothing. 

A few minutes later, Tig stood quickly and stumbled immediately. I just managed to catch him, and steady him long enough for the man behind the bar to come around and help me straighten Tig up so that he could attempt to walk. Attempt being the key word there. He stumbled again. “I’m Phil,” the young man said as he threw Tig’s arm around his shoulder.

“Sara,” I replied as the two of us maneuvered Tig down the hallway, where I assumed a bad was. “I work for Skeeter,” I explained. 

“Oh, so you’re the girl Tig was mumbling about last night,” Phil said with a goofy grin as he opened a door and gestured for you to help Tig inside. “This is his room, can you help him into bed, put a bucket by his head? I gotta get back to the bar.” 

I promised to take care of Tig, so once we were inside, Phil closed the door and went back to his bartending duties. I realized, as he exited the room, that he was a prospect for the club. No wonder he was doing the dirty work. I didn't know a lot about the Sons, but my father had been in an MC back home, before he was killed, so I knew the gist of it.

I pushed Tig onto the bed and struggled to get him out of his leather cut. After I laid it over the back of the hard chair in the corner, I went to work removing his boots and socks. Tig had nearly passed out at this point and was no help at all. It was like undressing a two hundred pound newborn baby. 

Tig whined and reached for his belt, so I helped get his pants off too, leaving him in black boxer-briefs and his navy blue t-shirt. I tried pulling him up on the bed, and that didn't work. Tig wouldn't wake up long enough to give me any assistance so I walked over to the door, opened it and stuck my head out.

Lucky for me, Chibs was coming down the hall with a curly haired brunette on his arm, “Hey Chibs, sorry to interrupt but could you give me a hand real quick,” I motioned to Tig who was more off the bed than on.

Chibs nodded, then shook his head at the state of his friend and brother. He helped me slide Tig up on the bed and pull the blankets up over the extremely drunk man. He looked down at Tig and sighed. 

Chibs left with his girl and I closed the door behind him. I puttered around the room, placing a good size trashcan beside the bed, since it was likely Tig would be vomiting soon. I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet and sat it and a red Gatorade from a case on the floor, on the bedside table. 

After making sure Tig was on his side, and propping a pillow behind him so that he wouldn't roll back and choke on his own vomit, I started to leave the room. As I reached for the door knob, Tig called out, “Stay, please don't go.” 

I walked back over and sat down on the egde of the bed. Tig patted around the bed in front of him as if he were searching for something, so I took his hand in mine, “What is it Tig,” I asked.

“Please don't leave me alone,” he almost whimpered.

“Alright Tig, I’ll stay, just let me take my shoes off and get a bottle of water,” I promised him. 

After grabbing my water and kicking off my shoes, I crawled up on the bed behind Tig. A quick look at my phone showed that it was only seven o’clock, so I sat against the headboard and played a game on my phone. Tig scooted closer to me, until his back was against my leg, and he sighed happily in his drunken sleep. 

About two hours later, according to the clock on your phone, Tig lurched for the side of the bed and threw up in the trashcan. You silently thanked Phil for reminding you to put that there. After retching for a few minutes, Tig fell back on the bed, and that’s when he realized that I was still there. “You stayed,” he sounded surprised. 

“I told you I would,” I replied as I handed him three aspirin and the Gatorade. 

“You are a goddess,” Tig praised as he washed down the aspirin with the red sports drink. 

I chuckled, “No, I just remember being blind with grief and trying to drink the pain away.”

He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text, then turned to me again. “Would you stay the night,” he asked. “I’ll sleep on top of the covers if you want.”

I couldn't help but smile. Tig was still drunk, but he was such a sweetheart. “I’ll stay Tig, but you can sleep under the covers too. I have no fears for my virtue,” I said with a soft smile. 

Just then, the door opened and Phil came in wearing a pair of kitchen gloves and took Tig’s trash can to the bathroom and began cleaning it. “That’s gross, poor kid,” I commented. 

“He’s a good prospect,” Tig replied. “He’ll patch in, no problem.”

I shook my head, and played with my phone until Phil brought the can back and left the room without saying a world. “Efficient isn't he,” I mumbled. 

Tig laughed and snuggled down into the bed, “Lay down with me,” he asked quietly. 

I scooted down in the bed with Tig, and the two of us laid there silently, falling asleep to the sound of the other’s breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

I’d fallen asleep too early and now I was laying awake at five in the morning. Apparently the clubhouse wasn't even quiet in the wee hours of the morning. I could hear what sounded like an electric mixer, and someone banging around pots and pans. I sighed and snuggled back against Tig, seeking warmth in the chilly room. Tig wrapped his arms around me and sighed, “That’s Bobby making muffins, if you’re wondering,” he informed. “He bakes when he’s not able to sleep.”

“Ah,” I answered, “It sounded reminiscent of a dental drill.”

Tig chuckled and then we laid quietly for a while, until a few minutes later when he began to speak again. “I made a huge mistake. Massive. I acted on an impulse that was based on a lie and I killed an innocent woman. Her father had me kidnapped and chained up, and they made me watch them burn my baby alive,” he sobbed into my shoulder. 

I turned and wrapped my arms around Tig as he cried. “Oh Tig, honey I am so, so sorry. I can't imagine how awful,” I said, holding him close and stroking his hair as his sobs got louder.

“She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to die like that. Why wouldn't they kill me instead. I begged and begged them to kill me, but they just smirked at me and watched her burn,” he cried out.

My heart broke for him, and I kissed his head, my own tears burning hot trails down my cheeks. What kind of monster would burn another human being alive. “I’m so sorry honey, I’m so sorry. No one deserves that.”

“She was screaming for me and I couldn't do a fucking thing to help her. They had me chained up just out of reach of her and all I could do was watch, and scream as she cried out for her daddy. I was right fucking there and I couldn't protect her. I couldn't do a damn thing,” he shouted in a broken tone. “I should have been able to help her.”

“There was nothing you could have done Tig,” I attempted to soothe him. “You couldn't have broken the chains, and even if you had, anyone that horrible would have done something even worse to her. I’m so sorry Tig,” I said, kissing the top of his head and petting his hair again.

Tig seemed to be done talking, so I sat in silence, holding him and alternating between petting his hair and rubbing his back. I was offering as much physical comfort as I could, knowing that soothing words only went so far. 

After a while, I felt like it was my turn to speak. “I was born and raised in Rhode Island. I got married when I was twenty. Young, dumb and in love, I guess. Tim was so sweet to me. He swooped in and swept me off my feet. I thought it was true love,” I said as Tig sat up and reached for a cigarette. 

“He insisted that I quit my job so that he could take care of me, as soon as we were married. We barely scraped by on just his paychecks, but he insisted I not work. Then I got pregnant and he lost his job at practically the same time. That was when the Tim I knew disappeared.” Tig looked over at me with anger and sadness in his eyes.

I knew he wouldn't like what was coming, but I felt compelled to finish my story. “We fought through the whole pregnancy. First he wanted me to get an abortion, which I’m totally pro choice but that wasn't what I wanted, so i refused. Then he decided to start slapping me around, hoping to get me in line. I stupidly thought he would change when the baby came, so I stuck around.”

After pausing to take a deep breath, I continued on, getting to the worst part. “When I was thirty weeks pregnant, he tripped me, and I fell down the stairs of our apartment building. Two flights. It knocked me out and I had a placental abruption. I bled and bled, and my baby suffocated inside my body. We lived in a small town and there wasn't a skilled hospital close enough to save her.”

Tig looked horrified as the tears began to roll down my cheeks. I hadn't cried over my baby in a while, but I also never really talked about her either. “I filed a restraining order and divorce paperwork from my hospital bed. The restraining order was granted immediately and the divorce was finalized in two weeks, thanks to a domestic violence advocate at the hospital. A police officer escorted Tim to our apartment to get his clothes, and I never saw him again.”

Tig pulled me into his arms, and I broke down and sobbed for the first time in years. I reached into my shirt and pulled out a pendant that resembled a metal hourglass.”I had her cremated, and some of her ashes are inside this tiny urn,” I explained. “Her name was Arabella Elizabeth Morrissette. I gave her my maiden name because i didnt want her to have the name of the man who killed her.”

It was Tig’s turn to kiss my head and rub my back as i clung to him, and to the pendant and cried for my baby girl who never took a breath, never opened her eyes for me to see the color. The baby girl, my Arabella, who never had a chance. “She would have been seven last month,” I choked out.

“Dawn was twenty,” he whispered. 

I realized that Tig was crying again too, and i let go of the little urn and wrapped of my arms around him. We held each other and cried until we were both out of tears. It was cathartic, and we eventually fell asleep like that, and that was how Chibs found us when he came to check on Tig later in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

I spent most of Saturday getting to know the Sons of Anarchy brothers. They really did seem like a big family, even though it was obvious that something was worrying them all. I knew enough about motorcycle clubs to know better than to ask. If I needed to know, I’d be told. 

That evening, Tig asked me to have dinner with him at the diner, and I agreed. He walked me to my car, opening and closing my door for me, and then went to his bike. He followed me into town and we stopped at Hannah’s. 

We had a good time, talking over our burgers and fries. Tig insisted we get shakes instead of soda, and ordered us both chocolate. He was slightly mortified when I dipped a french fry into my shake, until I convinced him to try iy. After that, his blob of ketchup went untouched. 

When we went to leave, Tig paid the bill and wouldn't hear my protests. This time when he walked me to my car, it was with his arm around me, and I found that I enjoyed it. He kissed my cheek before he closed my car door. I drove home with a smile on my face.

×÷×÷×÷×÷×÷×÷×÷

Weekdays were spent at work with Skeeter. Sometimes Tig stopped by, and sometimes he’d just text me. We weren't really dating, but we had lunch together at least once a week, and I usually ended up at the SAMCRO Friday night party for a few hours. Tig would call me on Sunday morning and we’d either have brunch,, or he’d come over to my place for dinner. 

I was starting to have feelings for him, but I was sure he didn't feel the same way about me. No one ever felt that way about me, so I was content to remain good friends with him, unwilling to go out on a limb and screw things up. Tig’s friendship meant so much to me.

Sometimes my phone would ring in the early hours of the morning, and it was always Tig. Nightmares plagued him and he needed to talk himself down from the fear and pain. I always answered, and i always listened. Occasionally, since retelling the story, i had nightmares about falling down the stairs and losing Arabella all over again. On those nights, Tig took my calls and would spend as long as i needed on the phone with me. 

One night, Tig couldn't seem to get his breathing under control and I was starting to worry about him. I threw on a pair of yoga pants and my fuzzy slippers, and headed out to my car. I kept talking to him in a steady voice, as I drove across town to the Sons’ clubhouse. 

One of the prospects, V-Lin, was guarding the gate and smiled as he let me in. I parked quickly and ran across the pavement to the big wooden doors. My slippers made a ridiculous scuffing noise across the pavement, but I paid it no mind as I rushed to Tig.

Once inside, I ran down the hall as quietly as possible, and opened the door to Tig’s room without knocking. He was sitting on his bed clad in his boxer-briefs, his skin pale and clammy. He was having a full blown panic attack and had no clue what to do. 

I rushed in the room and took Tig into my arms. I rocked him back and forth, making calming nonsense noises as I tried to help him calm down. I slid around behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest. “Listen to my breathing Tig. Breathe with me. You can do this. I’ve got you,” I mumbled as I held the shaking man in my arms. 

Eventually, Tig calmed down, and he fell back against me, exhausted. His weight caused us both to fall back onto the bed, and he pulled me with him as he got comfortable. I didn't even bother to ask if he wanted me to stay, that much was obvious. I kicked off my slippers and got comfortable in Tig’s arms. 

“They killed you too,” he said quietly. “In my nightmare, i mean. Pope laughed and laughed while he burned everyone I love.” 

“I’m right here Tigger. I’m fine,” I assured him.

“It would kill me if you got hurt because of me. I can't lose you Sara,” he continued.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised.

“I love you Sara,” Tig said, looking down at me.

For a moment, I couldn't speak. I had always thought my feelings were one sided. Now that I knew they were reciprocated, tears sprang into my eyes and I whispered, “I love you too Tig.”


	5. Chapter 5

Eighteen months later

“I can't do this,” I cried into Tig’s chest. 

“Baby, baby, it's only another few weeks. The baby is growing just fine, and you’re going to be a mom again. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you this time. We’re gonna bring Hunter home from the hospital and put him in his crib with the Harley sheets and the motorcycle mobile, and we’ll dress him in his SAMCRO onesies and hat, and everything will be good,” Tig assured me. 

“What if I fall again,” I asked him for the millionth time since the little plastic tests had showed two pink lines. I’d taken a dozen tests, because i couldn't believe the first eleven. 

“We won't go anywhere with more than four steps unless it has an elevator,” he promised, as he had been promising through my entire pregnancy.

I’d been a mess this entire pregnancy. This baby had been a surprise, but we were both head over heels in love with him. I was just so damn scared. Neither of us could handle losing another child. 

Tig held me tightly as I calmed down. He was so good to me. I had one of these meltdowns about every other week, but he never got upset with me. He spoiled me rotten, buying me every maternity gadget imaginable, and making sure the baby’s room was decked out with everything we’d need. 

When I hit my twenty ninth week of pregnancy, I was a nervous wreck. All I could think about was how this was the last week I’d been able to feel Arabella move and kick inside me. Hunter was an active baby, and rarely let me rest, but I treasured every second of his movements because I lost that so early with my little girl. 

Tig was so protective of me. He refused to go on runs after I hit the twenty week mark, and Jax didn't even protest. The club had become a lot more family friendly over the past couple of years, and they were doing all legitimate business now, but it still required a little out of town work for the SAMCRO boys because they were the mother charter. Don't get me wrong, they were still the rough and rowdy bikers who drank and smoked too much, but I wasn't afraid for Hunter’s safety once he was born.

It was only two weeks after my most recent meltdown when the first contraction hit. It wasn't anything major, just some cramping and lower back pain when I woke up, so I ignored it as best i could and went on with my day. I sent Tig off to work without telling him I was in labor, because i knew it would be several hours before I needed to go to the hospital.

I spent the morning cleaning my kitchen. I cleaned the fridge, throwing out all the leftovers and scrubbing the shelves and drawers until they shined. Then i started on the floor. The mop wasn't getting it clean enough, so I ended up on my hands and knees with a spray bottle of vinegar and a scrub brush, by the time lunch rolled around, my kitchen was so clean, you could literally eat off of the floor. 

About three o’clock the contractions were strong enough that I was having trouble catching my breath, so I called Tig and told him to come get me. I grabbed my hospital bag and the diaper bag, and waddled out to the front porch. 

I was leaning on the railing when Tig pulled into the driveway. He jumped off his bike and ran to me. After he took the diaper bag and my overnight bag from me, he helped me over to the car and into the passenger seat. 

The trip to Saint Thomas was quick, and we were ushered straight upstairs to the maternity floor and into a room. By the time i had changed into a hospital gown and got into the bed to be checked, the nurse had to run and get the doctor because the baby was already crowning. Our little boy was ready to make his appearance. 

Tig held my hand and kissed my forehead, and told me what an amazing job I was doing. When the doctor arrived and sat down, I only had to push a few times. Tig had tears in his eyes when he went to cut the cord. The doctor laid Hunter on my chest and a nurse wrapped a blanket around him. He nuzzled my chest and the nurse suggested that I try and feed him,since I planned to breastfeed. She helped me position hunter and he latched immediately. 

Tig sat beside me on the hospital bed and slid his arm around my back and he softly stroked the back of Hunter’s head. “He’s so beautiful,” he murmured. 

I tore my eyes away from my beautiful son, and looked at Tig. His face was the most peaceful i’d ever seen, and it made me tear up. When his eyes met mine, we both broke into a goofy grin. “He looks like you,” I said with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Tig agreed. “But thank God he has your nose.”

I chuckled, and there wqs a knock at the door. Tig opened it a little to see who it was, and Tara was on the other side. “All the guys, Gemma, lyla and a bunch of the kids are in the waiting room. I was elected to come check on you, since I’m a doctor,” she explained.

“Give me five minutes and they can all come in and get a peek before they take him for his hearing test and everything,” I told her. I knew the nurse would be back soon to take Hunter, and i wanted everyone to see him now, so that Tig and i could have some privacy with him when he came back from the nursery. 

Four and a half minutes later, and there was another knock at the door. When Tig open3d it the entirity of SAMCRO rushed in, led by Gemma. “Well what’s his name,” she asked as everyone gathered around the bed. 

“Paul Hunter Trager, but we’re calling him Hunter,” Tig said, smiling proudly at our son.

Everyone oohed and ahhed over Hunter for a few minutes until Tig cleared his throat, “We would like Chibs to be the guardian of our son, should anything happen to us.”

Chibs looked at me and I nodded, “You’re the best man for the job.”

Chibs accepted and everyone started to file out of the room, and shortly after, they were all gone, the nurse came and got Hunter for his tests.

Tig laid down in the bed beside me and held me gently, “Thank you for saving me.”


End file.
